Nugae
by Lucia Zephyr
Summary: John see something unexpected and amused. BalthazarConstantine slash.


Title: Nugae author: simplewind pairing: Balthazar/Constantine Rating: R for m/m relationship.  
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. Miserably.  
Summary: John went around and saw something interesting.

Put another cigarette in lips, then releasing white nicotine smog. John Constantine was roaming in the street, in his black suit.

Sometimes he busied himself with deporting demons, lacking of time to enjoy things deserved, for example, to eat his fill, to fall into a sleep, to watch TV...then say nothing of taking a stroll. But smoking was a quick work, just need little time. Cigarette, a good friend never bores you.

Chas must complain about that. He was not just the exorcismer's friend. John should pay more attention to his lovely trainee than a packet of lung-bomb.

Not only Chas thought like that, but also Gabriel. The genderless archangel had cleanliness, hating everything filthy such as evil, pollution, and smell of irritating smoke. Potpourri is sweet, tobacco is sick. How womanlike, John thought.

There were some creatures in opposition to them. The evil demons. They were in hopes of their nemesis going to hell as soon as possible, it's truly reasonable. Like blackbeetle hate insecticide.

John flicked remnants stub into a dustbin. One more cigarette, more benison from Satan. John distractedly found his sense of humor drying up.

He went on roaming. Maybe there was someone busy all day, but never John Constantine. Not many half-breeds had enough courage to cross the line, except some bastards sticking their chin out for John's kick. So at times he was disengaged, horrifically disengaged.

Now he had plentiful time to hanging around. He didn't go to church, Gabriel would meet him with tiresome conversations. Either his own apartment or Beeman's studio in the daytime. Chas always asked about exorcism excessively nettlesome, and the other would give advices of a kind for convincing him to see doctor. Nothing worse than those except hell.

Standing at a corner of the street, John felt a little tried. He had walked for hours continually, but didn't feel like taking a seat to rest. Instead he was coming into a record market optionally. The showshelves were arranged in order like bridle-wise soldiers, John eyed the records and their names randomly. Beatles, Air Supply, Bon Jovi, Bush...

John stopped, staring at what he saw. Bush, a British band of Grunge style. Grunge, aha, sounded interesting. Chas likes it. The boy was crazy about everything noisy with strong drumbeats, yelling like a roaring locomotive. John understood that. When as young as Chas, he was dreaming of being a great rockstar with a band called cool name like dogstar or else. Exorcism had seemed reachless bullshit at that time, though he always been seeing things.

But that wasn't why he was concerning himself about the Bush band. He looked down at the bandmates on cover of CD held in his hand carefully. This man, he thought, was similar to someone.

A true bastard, damned half-breed. With burlesque suit, stupid hair-style and smug smirk, playing a shining coin with conceited skill. Balthazar was a filthy demon, but never showed blind side to let John found chances to kick him down to hell. He was very cagey about behavior, also appearance. The demon was unbelievably peacockish, he collected everything luxury, including a long Rolls-Royce limo out of produce, antique bullion crosier, intertropical islands and mostly highest edifice in the world. Balthazar was a cannily businessman and also demon, calculative, sociability, crafty and snarly. Every time when they were rolling onto floor or bed like fighting beasts, trying to avulsion each with teeth and fingers, confecting a philtre from sweat and blood catalyzing their lust more and more violent. Balthazar stared at John's face with his dark demonic eyes full of greedy, thrusting into the mortal's body harshly. John hated this unction, seemed two hopeless lovers before death. No love betweet them, just fevered lust.

Undoubtedly Balthazar was a epicure enjoying everything delighted. The demon used to quote their body-fucking as LOVEMAKING. How foolishly poetic. John knew his real features under the human appearance, so he was always curious about the reason Balthazar had chose that face. He never asked why once for the face was not the truth. Nothing about Balthazar was true no matter how he made John screamed loudly in the bed.

The sky got darker and darker. John Constantine walked out of the market, then placed a cigarette on lips and lit it. The sparks of red tip flashed with every drag, encroaching inches of cigarette. John looked up at the sky letting go a heavy sigh. He would go back to his apartment, pull out a bottle of Jack Daniels, wait and drink until the half-breed come in and fuck him again.

-FIN- 


End file.
